Young Turks led revival that made chenin charismatic
The chenin renaissance of the past two decades has been remarkable. It came out of a campaign I initiated in the 1990s, with the enthusiastic assistance of the late Harold Eedes, publisher of Wine Magazine; the encouragement of Jannie Retief at the KWV; and the support of Ian Bromley, visionary marketing manager of South African Airways.
While at first there was only a little interest from the country’s major producers, the young Turks of that era recognised the potential of the old vine resource unique to the variety in SA. It was easy and inexpensive for them to obtain fruit from long-established vineyards, while the cultivar’s versatility made it the ideal candidate for the kind of experimentation that adventurous newcomers are more open to than their corporate counterparts.
Within the first five years of the Wine Magazine-sponsored Chenin Challenge we were treated to a range of style, mostly heavily oaked and almost all with strong, sometimes funky leesy notes. These stylistics made a real impact on the wine judges of that era, but we quite quickly worked out that the blockbuster wines weren’t as easy to drink as the fresher, less showy examples.
The wine makers also began to understand better the nuances of their fruit sources and were therefore less inclined to conceal vinous purity behind an oak facade. By the millennium, the pendulum had swung towards the overlean style of the new avant-garde and for a time, the middle ground was a bit of a no-man’s land.
Consumers everywhere now recognise that SA offers the world’s most interesting chenins. The industry’s overworked “orphan” cultivar has become the national calling card. More fine Cape chenins are hyped in the international press than any other variety, and the average on-shelf price has increased way ahead of inflation. Ignoring the cosmetically priced statement wines selling at R250 or more and the cheapand-cheerful “quaffers” wines that some producers can still turn out for R30, there’s a solid core of decent wines at acceptable prices.
The Breedekloof region accounts for 20% of the country’s chenin blanc. However, because it has historically been a source of bulk wine, the producers were tardier than their coastal region colleagues in catching the premium wave.
Chef Peter Goffe-Wood knows the area well and it struck him that a focused effort, accompanied by a regional roadshow, would help to change perceptions about the quality the Breedekloof has to offer. He wasn’t wrong. At the event he recently hosted, I tasted several standout wines, and no real duds. The line-up served to confirm that even in Breedekloof, historically a region where bulk predominates over boutique, there is a wealth of very fine chenin to be found.
Among the wines that really impressed me were the Botha barrel-fermented bush vine 2017. The vineyard is almost 30 years old and accordingly is now yielding more concentrated fruit.
About a third of the production was naturally fermented: the final alcohol sits at 13.5%, offering restraint and ample freshness. Delicate and tightly structured, it is elegant, youthful and impressive.
I also liked the Opstal Carl Everson 2016, an equally unshowy but finely crafted wine. First launched about five years ago, it enjoys an established reputation — with a price to match (about R180).
The Lategansdorp Zahir 2016 is similarly restrained, noticeably flintier and crisper than most at 12% alcohol. It needs time to evolve but already offers lovely detail on the palate.
Among fuller, less austere wines, the Stofberg Marietha 2017 is limey and concentrated, refreshed by bright acidity and perfectly dry on the finish. The Olifantsberg 2017 is well priced and worth the punt.
Except for a concern about the speed with which some Breedekloof producers are boarding the pricing bandwagon, it’s impossible to recommend these wines too highly.